


Every Game You Play

by FFreakshow



Series: Every Game You Play [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: James Lives, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Mind Games, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Post-The Final Problem, Psychological, Psycological thriller, Realistic Development, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Slash, Tags to be added, jimlock, kind of twisted, mormor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFreakshow/pseuds/FFreakshow
Summary: Eights months after "The final problem" a crime wave hits London.Every step, every move leads to the most dangerous game Sherlock ever played.This is supposed to be a kind of continuation for the show. I'll try to respect the character's traits and personalities so it stays as realistic as possible.This is about the cat chasing the mouse. But, will you be able to tell who is who?Being powerful, becoming powerless, feeling  alive, becoming deadly.





	1. Preface

**“Courtship”**

Location: Scotland Yard headquarters, London

Time: 11:24

 

***                                                              ***                                                                ***

-“Sir!” Donovan said on the phone, almost screaming and looking at the package, utterly shocked

 

-"What?! I just made it to the car! What could've possibly happened in the past three minutes?"- Greg spitted out as he made his way back to the office.

-"You HAVE to see this"

-"Alright, I'll be there in a heartbeat”

***                                                              ***                                                                ***

When a breathless Greg made it back, he frowned when he realized almost everyone was now surrounding the desk where the package was. He quickly walked past through them to finally stare at the horrifying display, motionless.

-"Is that? Is that a?"- Greg stuttered

-"Obviously." - Sherlock said bluntly. He kept contemplating the macabre display with frenzy.

“Better than Christmas" He thought, not being able to conceal the smile on his face.

“Oh no. Wh, What kind of… What in BLOODY HELL?”- Greg Lastrade finally managed to say while taking a few steps back.

-“What kind of sick and macabre game is this??!!” Donovan cried and stared astonished and disgusted at the horrifying display.

-“Only my favorite kind, I suppose” Sherlock whispered to himself, still smiling at his present because he now knows for sure the game is definitely on.

 

 

 

***                                                              ***                                                                ***

 


	2. "A Different kind of addiction”

Two months ago…

Location: 221B Baker Street, London

    Time: 03:04 AM

-“Oh Sherlock, not this again.”- Mycroft sighed. He sounded like he was already tired of the conversation.

-“You have to admit it’s not entirely impossible”

-“As a matter of fact, it is. Should I be worried? Should I… get you tested right now, brother dear?”- Mycroft mocked him, but Sherlock remembers he actually looked quite concerned.

-"I’m not high, if that’s what you’re trying to imply!”- Sherlock said angrily. He pauses for a moment and continues: “Considering the complex nature of the significant amount crimes striking London. _No_. Europe! _and_ Asia right now, and of course the fact that even when we dismantled Moriarty’s network, he still manages to successfully get to us whenever the “zombie” feels like it. You have to at least entertain the idea!”

There’s a long pause between them, until Mycroft breaks the silence

-“So you're sober, but suddenly completely unaware of the many existing organized crime goups?- He sighed. –“Moriarty is dead, Sherlock”

-“And yet his body was never recovered”

-“We’ve discussed this before. One of his men must’ve taken it”

Another pause. Mycroft sighed 

-“But I have the feeling you won’t leave until I give you something”

*The chair makes a noise when Mycroft stands up opens a drawer*

-“There. The man in the photos is Ex-colonel Sebastian Moran, in case you’re wondering. He’s allegedly “the second most dangerous man” in England, who’s also presumably linked to Moriarty”

-“And how do you know he’s linked to Moriarty?”

-“Presumably”

-“Just answer the question”

-“We don’t”- Mycroft admitted sounding mildly annoyed. - “He was even more mysterious than James Moriarty, since he wasn’t keen on making his face appear on every available screen. Anyone who ever met the man during his time in Oxford and along his military career is either dead or mysteriously out of reach. Moran kept a low profile and all we had were rumors our CI heard about him being Moriarty’s sniper, so not even MI6 could successfully link him to any actual crime, but…”

-“But?”- Sherlock interrupted

*Mycroft sighed and stands up again to open another drawer*

“Oh. Another Envelope. I wonder how many of these you kept from me”

-“That’s the last one. So thankfully I don’t have to get off my chair again. Those photos were taken weeks after you first met him at the Bristol South pool”

-“So you’re just assuming they’re partners because they were photographed together?”-Sherlock asked sardonically

-“No. We thought they _were_ because the day you jumped from Bartholomew’s roof, traffic cameras showed the blond man running through King Edward Street and then disappearing into the hospital, although that footage is no longer available and no one saw him. He vanished short after Moriarty's death”

-“And where’s Moran now?”

-“Unfortunately we don’t…know. The photos I just gave you are now the only solid proof of Moran’s existence, since his files were totally wiped out long ago. We believe Sebastian Moran is probably Moriarty’s best kept secret, _if_ he ever worked for him in the first place.”

He sighed dramatically and then he added:  “I suggest you to stop this now, Sherlock. I know how Moriarty affec-”

Sherlock paused the recorded conversation he and his brother had at Diogenes Club months ago, which was also the last time they saw each other. He knew he might be able to get some information out of Mycrof, so he took a recorder just in case and after finishing their conversation and without his brother's authorization, he took the photos with him. Everything changed After the incident at Sherrinford and Sherlock knew there are always more secrets when it comes to Mycroft Holmes.

After another sleepless night, Sherlock finally decided to leave his room and prepare some tea. The babysitter was already there, just in time to take care of Rosamund.

Right after John moved back with Sherlock, they got some interesting cases, but now most cases were “Crimes passionnel”, so he rejected them all. This situation left Sherlock with way more time in his hands, especially since John got a new job. He spent almost the entire time working, and considering Sherlock is clearly not a big fan of kids, they decided that hiring a babysitter would be the best for everyone, so after several interviews, they finally chose Valery, just based on Sherlock’s deductions on her.

-“Hello, Sherlock. Is Rosamund still asleep?”- Valery asked as soon as she crossed the door

-“She is, and I hope you can keep it as quiet as possible, I have work to do”-Sherlock said without looking at her, going to his room

-“Sure!  but before you go in there, did John tell you I have to leave earlier today?”

Sherlock turned to face the babysitter and frowned. –“No. He didn’t. How early?”

“Um, three hours. He said you could take care of her until he gets home. Would you, Please? There’s something I really need to do”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and entered his room, closing the door behind him and once in there he finally yelled -“FINE!”

 

 

9 Hours later

-“I know exactly what you’re trying to do and I will certainly not fall for any of your tricks”- Sherlock said and then he noticed a small object flying his way a bit too late.

-“Ouch!”- Sherlock whined as he picked up rattle.

Rosamund pouted grumpily as she tried to throw another toy at Sherlock, but he took it her from her.

Oh, don’t give me that! I just told you a MAGNIFICENT story! Why aren’t you asleep?”- Sherlock frowned.

-“Sherlock...”- John laughed at his friend who’s still not used to handle children.

-“Isn’t that what babies do? Sleep after you tell them a story? I mean that and using their tears as a manipulation tool, of course.”

-“Well, still. I appreciate the effort, Sherlock. I’m sorry I had to ask you to do this, but you know I really had no choice”- John sighed

Sherlock stared at his friend for a moment, noticing how awfully tired he looked.

-“Maybe you should try to get some sleep now. I’ll take care of her.”- He said sympathetically.

-“Oh, really? Thank you, Sherlock”-John sighed again in relief - “You have NO idea how much I need it right now”. - He didn’t need to be told twice so he quickly went to his room.

Sherlock resumed his babysitter duty, sighing as he realized he has already told Rosamund all the stories he knew. His old adventures with John made always the best stories, unlike the ones Mycroft used to tell him, but he wasn’t a story teller after all although he remembered the one who once pretended to be one. He considered the story of “Sir Boast a lot”, but he realized it may not be appropriate for a child, especially considering the ending of the story.

“What would you know, anyway?” Sherlock pouted, gazing the little girl in front of him.

The night arrived and Rosamund was finally asleep.

Sherlock looked impatiently at his phone; he had somewhere to go, so he asked Mrs. Hudson to look at John’s daughter while he was asleep.

Once on the streets, he hailed a taxi. –“To Waterloo Bridge, please”.

 

Location: A301, Waterloo Bridge.

Time: 7:08 PM

 

Sherlock finally reached his destination after 13 minutes.

–“Wait here”- he said to the cabbie as he got out.

He walked towards the elevated sitting area underneath the bridge, where his homeless network was usually waiting for him

-“Anything?”

-"Not much, really”- Said the youngest woman in the group

Disappointment started to spread across Sherlock's face. It’s been the same since this started.

-“Um, Sir”- The woman raised a hand “I didn’t know if it’s important, so I didn’t want to say anything, but I been asking ‘round and someone gave me this, the other day”

It was red business card. It was so worn out that some of the letters on it were completely unreadable.

-“Who gave you this?”- Sherlock demanded with an agitated voice

The woman stared st the ground.

-"If they found out I told the police about them, they migh-"

-"They won't. I assure you they have nothing to do with this." Sherlock said firmly locking eyes with the woman In front of him with a serious expression on his face. -"This is… personal."- he said later, breaking eye contact and looking now at the ground. _-"Please"_

She hesitated for a moment, but she decided to trust him. 

-"Some dealer. He said this was the last place where he saw him and that this was the only thing he could tell me about Sebastian Moran, of course he only told me after I gave him the money you gave us for these situations. He used to be around the Mayfly area, but now he's always moving and never appears on the same location twice”

-“I see. Thank you. Please text me if anything comes up as soon as possible”

-"Sure thing" said one of them.

Before he left, Sherlock approached them, as he put his hand inside his coat and gave each four of them an envelope.

"Thank you, sir! I wish we could be more helpful next time"

 Sherlock gave them a weak smile in response and got in the taxi.-"Back to Baker Street"

When he finally arrived, he went upstairs and noticing his two roommates were still asleep, he quietly unlocked his room, turned the lights on and started working on his “personal case”.

He took the business card, again, trying to get as much information as he could, but the only letters that remained intact were an L’ and E with an accent and another E, followed by a full word, which looked like this:

L’_ _ _ _ _ ée Club.

Too vague.

It could be : L’épée (The sword) – L’entrée -  (The entrance) – L’Allé- L’nuitée …

That’s it. L’nuitée. It has to be the last one…or the first one, perhaps?

There were many results for L’nuitée but no clubs were found so after many unsuccessful hours of online searching for clubs with French names in London, he gave up.

This was frustrating. Ever since his hunt started three months ago, none of the information he collected leaded to any confirmation, just unverified sources and his instinct telling him he wasn’t wrong, not _this_ time and that’s why he was trying so desperately trying to find him, trying to find James Moriarty.

Before Judging Sherlock for hunting down a dead man, you have to understand this was more than just a crazy idea crossing his mind and it was actually pretty simple: Why would someone, whose brain is the most important thing, shot himself just like that?

“No, he would never be that disappointing”, He always said to himself, once again.

The thing about Jim Moriarty is that he continues to appear in his life one way or another and It both thrilled Sherlock and scared him at the same time. Just when he thought it was over, he saw his videos in Sherrinford facility and that Cheshire cat smile kept haunting him, filling his head till now. That wasn’t just “Posthumous game”, but if he _was_ dead, he had to know the person pulling the strings for him.

There was a period when he would go to his memory palace, opening almost every single door that could possibly help finding some answers and hopefully bring the sensations attached to the memories and he usually spent hours inside the one room that once forbidden himself to open, only to reply the words:

_“The memory palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do and I know what it most certainly cannot”_

Mycroft’s words danced in his head every time he reached that point, and Sherlock knew this was crazy, but after so many sleepless nights or terrible mornings waking up in a crack house, only to end up peeing in a cup, followed by Molly’s (thankfully) ringless slapping hands, he knew he needed to find answers fast, so he fought every urge to get high every time he wanted unlock Jim Moriarty from his memory palace. This was still the healthiest way to deal with the boredom, right? Just a different kind of addiction.

Sherlock ran his hands through his face.  It was now 4.18 and there wasn’t anything else he could possibly do for now, so he kept contemplating the walls in front of him for hours.

Thankfully John was always either at work or sleeping, because if he knew about this, he would probably think he’s lost it, especially after how he reacted when he told them about the idea months ago, so  he decided it was better to keep it a secret from everyone. He didn't need anyone else to call him crazy. 

It was already 9 am when he recognized the familiar knock on the door: Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with the slow development (first two chapters), because after that, things start getting crazy.


	3. “Berkeley’s Lord”

Time: 9:24 Am

-“No

Boring.

Seriously?...NO

No..”

Sherlock repeated for five minutes with not an ounce of interest as he read the labels on the laminated envelopes Greg Lestrade just gave him.

“What happened to premeditated crime, really?” Sherlock said under his breath

-“Oh, come on! You said you were bored!”- Lestrade said in a pleading tone

-“I am. Very much, indeed”- Sherlock replied

-“So why can’t you pick at least one of them?

-“Be-cause they’re bo-ring!”- Sherlock screamed in exasperation.-“Why can’t you get the interesting ones?”

-“Well, you know those cases are not our division”- Greg explained, again. His phone rang.  –“I’ll get back to you in a moment.”- He said before answering the call.

-“Please, Take your time”- Sherlock replied keeping a bored expression. He was still debating whether he should take a case or not. He knew that considering how frustrated he felt, at least it might keep him from ripping his head off for a while. A few minutes later, Greg came back

-“Sorry, gotta go. Something came up. Cross your fingers”-Said Greg buoyantly, while picking up the files on the table.-“this might be good and hopefully I can bring something you find interesting next time. I’ll give you a call”

\- “Hardly” Sherlock replied bluntly before Greg stormed out of the place. He got on his feet and that’s when the babysitter arrived. 

After drinking some tea, he played the violin for a couple of hours and then sat on his armchair quietly until his cellphone rang. It was Lestrade

-“I think I finally got something that might be interesting enough for you”

“And why would you think that?”- Sherlock snorted raising a brow

-“Because a drug lord just got killed and the killer… made quite a scene”

-“A drug lord? That’s not your division”

-“Well, it’s not. But it is our case now that he’s dead”

-“Where is he?”

-“Berkeley Square.  C’mon, we have nothing. No witnesses and apparently there’s some kind of message here. According to MMDP, this doesn’t match with the M.O of any gang or cartel known in London”

-“A message?”- This caught Sherlock’s attention.

-“You better come see it”

Sherlock considered it for a moment

-“Oh, Fine” Sherlock spat. He knew he needed a distraction to keep him from reaping his head off. -"With one condition”

-“Name it”- Greg said shrugging 

-“If were to cooperate, Anderson leaves when I say so”

-“That’s your condition? Seriously? - Greg said raising an eyebrow

-“Yes”

 -“Fine. Just get over here.”

Finishing his tea, Sherlock went to the bathroom and left the teacup on the sink. He needed a shower so after finishing; He got dressed, locked his room, grabbed his coat and said goodbye to the girl holding Rosamund, but totally ignoring Mrs. Hudson on his way out.

When he got to the street, he hailed a taxi to meet Greg.

-“How rude, Young man!”- Mrs. Watson exclaimed seconds after Sherlock slammed the door on her face. She wasn’t really upset, in fact, she was glad Sherlock finally left his room.

 

Location: Berkeley Square, Mayfair.

Police cars were parked all over the park.

-“Look who’s here! Someone has decided to honor us with their presence”- Sally Donovan said with a mocking tone.

“Hey Frea- I mean, Sherlock" she corrected herself. “I guess old habits die hard” she said as Sherlock approached to the tape cordon.

-“Mm, Hey.”- Sherlock said, confidently striding past Sally, now getting closer to the crime.

 

“A blindfolded Man sitting on a park bench in front of one of the park’s sculptures. Caucasian, dark hair. He was 36, maybe 37 years old, judging by his appearance. Whoever did this wanted to make him look…upset. Impatient perhaps. He was crossing his arms and legs. Wounded. A messy cut from below his left ear to the neck and his hands were bleeding. They removed scar. No, a tattoo, considering the size of the cut. There’s blood, but the suit he’s wearing looks immaculate…so they obvio-”

Sherlock’s deductions were abruptly interrupted by Anderson’s arrival.

-“Sherlock! I’m SO glad you decided to join us today”- Anderson said standing up between Sherlock and the body.

-“GILES!”- Sherlock cried out, not realizing his mistake, again.

-“Seriously? It’s GREG, Sherlock. GREG For Christ’s sake” – Greg Lestrade said with disappointment, standing behind Sherlock.

-“Oh, sorry”- Sherlock apologized sounding almost genuine.

-“Nevermind. Anderson, can you leave for now, please?”

-“WHAT? Why?- Anderson asked raising his hands

-“Because you’re useless. Have a good day”- Sherlock said striding past him while putting on gloves

Anderson looked at Lestrade with confusion

-“Please just do it. That’s the… condition”- Greg sighed

A few complains later, Anderson gave up and finally said through gritted teeth:

-“FINE. Just DON’T contaminate the crime scene, Holmes”

-“Great advise. As helpful as always”- Sherlock answered, raising his eyebrows and Greg sighed again, and then focused on the corpse.

 –“They removed his fingerprints just to make it easier for us”- Greg said sarcastically -“But thankfully, MMDP has reasons to believe he’s Berkeley’s new drug lord. The man’s face was a mystery since he came to London and since his case was relatively new, but this guy matches the physical description they got from some “clients”. We can’t put a face to the name or in this case, a name to the face, so we’re running a facial recon once we get out of here”

-“And you say there are no witnesses?

-“No one saw a damn thing and CCTV… disabled”

Sherlock scanned the area. With so many buildings, it’s impossible to believe no one saw anything, but considering how dangerous would be to talk about drug gangs to the police, everything made perfect sense. “Someone committing crimes for everyone to see, but not getting caught”- He whispered to himself, but discarded the idea crossing his mind. Expectations ruin everything.

He suddenly thought about something else. “Berkeley’s Lord”, that’s how John would name the case.

-“He had a wallet with him”- Greg interrupted Sherlock’s thoughts and gesturing to one of the man wearing coverall. He gave Sherlock the evidence bag with the wallet. He didn’t have much besides a bus ticket and 60£.

-“Why did they think there is a message? Besides the obvious statement of someone being completely blind or that the man himself was. This seems the average way to deliver a message between drug gangs to me”

-“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

-“I already said everything I know and I think you heard me”

-“You’re not even trying! Come on, you’re already here”- Greg blurted out, but gave him pleading look

-“Oh, Alright. I’ll give it another look”- Sherlock sighed dramatically. -“I left my apartment for this?!”- He thought.

This was disappointing, but since he was already here, he just followed the forensics team who were now taking the body to analyze it.

Once they got to Bart’s hospital, he put  the rubber gloves on again and started examining the man. He only had some scars, all of them made by a knife, a year ago. Everything was clean, the body, the clothes. They made sure he couldn’t find anything.

When he reached to his face, He carefully opened the man’s mouth.

Sherlock frowned.

There was something under the tongue. Cautiously, he removed whatever it was under it.

It was an anatomically correct origami heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. “Personal project”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In this chapter we’ll learn more about Sherlock’s secret, but is he the only one keeping one?

He contemplated the figure for a while, eyes filled with curiosity and expectation.

If there was any chance this is connected to his “Personal case”, he couldn’t let anyone know about this, so he took it and carefully pocketed. He kept examining the body for another good 15 minutes until he decided there was nothing else he could find to solve the case.

He didn’t even noticed Molly was there looking at him from the door’s window.

They haven’t seen each other much since Sherlock’s “love confession”, but again, Sherlock didn’t leave the apartment for the past three months. Although he explained everything was part of his sister’s game and that in “test” saved her life, things were still a bit awkward, but she understood and ended up thanking Sherlock for saving her life. Good Patient Molly Hooper.

-“Hey, I didn’t expect you to be here today. I haven’t see you in a while”

Right after she stated the obvious, Sherlock noticed. She met someone

“New Hairstyle, lipstick, Color in her cheeks, but not from makeup, No. The kind of natural color that shows a healthy complexion. She was wearing a necklace, but wasn’t an ordinary necklace. It looks like the kind someone “special” would give to their significant others and it had to be, since she started to play with it since he looked at her. Her voice and facial expression were much confident now and the fact that she put on two pounds” – Sherlock deduced immediately, but kept it to him. Instead, he only smiled and said:

-“Hey, you look good”- He said feeling awkward

-“Thank you”- She blushed, surprised by Sherlock’s compliment. - “What are you working on?”

-“A drug lord, apparently. The body is clean so there’s nothing else I can do for now”- Sherlock admitted with a bored expression in his face.

When he got out of the lab, He gestured to the forensic team to enter, so they could start working.

Lestrade rushed the team, but Sherlock still had some time to spare, until they could get the results, so he got to the roof to get some air. He took the origami figure from his pocket and then proceeded to examine it, carefully unfolding it and even if he didn’t see a clue on the paper, he wasn’t going to give up on this.

He looked up to the cloudy sky and took a deep breath, He was feeling anxious for some reason.

It took longer than expected, but after 4 hours, he got a text from Greg.

He hailed a taxi and 18 minutes later he was at Scotland Yard.

“It looks like we got the name. -“Cade Ellis, formerly known as Lamar Benoit, 36. He came from Paris illegally five months ago and according to MMDP, that’s the same amount of time Berkeley’s Lord appeared. That’s when things started to get more… complicated. That’s also when this “Crime wave” started.”- Greg informed Sherlock

-“Then look for French gangs, _No_. Drug lords! The man was clearly trying to run away, but death found him anyway. Even Anderson could’ve get that” – Sherlock sighed

-“There’s something else. If this is the guy we think he is, he had an alias in Paris. They called him, and I hope the pronunciation is correct “L’araignée”

-“Spider”- Sherlock finished for Greg. Crystal eyes widening. “L’araignée”- He whispered to himself and immediately pictured the red business card as it was floating in the air, in front of him

L’_____ ée Club.

  L’ A R A I G N É E CLUB

 

     Since almost all the letters were scrapped off the card, Sherlock didn’t even consider the one possibility that could make all of this makes sense, but still, how could he miss this?

Sherlock smiled manically and started to connect the dots.

L’araignée”- **Spider** \- **_A Spider in the middle of a web_**

“Could this be?”

 

-“So what do you think? Do I leave it to you?”- Lestrade interrupted his train of thought.

-“Leave it to me”- Sherlock winked and left the place still smiling.

 

Location: 221B Baker Street, London

Time: 6.27 PM

After a long day of talking, having lunch together and Sharing stories, Mrs. Hudson drank her last cup of tea and said goodbye to the babysitter.

-“FINALLY!”- Valery sighed while closing the door. 

Once she knew for sure that Mrs. Hudson wasn’t going to comeback, she checked on Rosamund one more time and then quietly walked directly to Sherlock's room. Of course it was locked but she was prepared, so she proceeded to handle her lock pick expertly with one hand while turned doorknob with the other.

“Gotcha” - Valery whispered to herself a few seconds later as he entered Sherlock's room. The first thing to do was to check if everything remained the same since the last time she got in there. Everything was dark. He covered the windows so the light wouldn't enter the room, so she turned the lights on.  She scanned the room and proceeded to check the walls on her left, which were now completely covered with international news about potential crimes such as jewelry heights, mysterious murders and forgeries, among not so news, from five years ago.

The rest of the walls were covered with pictures organized by date: Buildings, stores, guns, and faces. Faces she knew.

And then, she saw it.

Abigail took a few steps forward to the map to get a closer look to the locations Sherlock has pinned:

 Shanghai- Paris - Dubai

There was a picture in the middle.

Two men in front of a black SUV, each of them had Sherlock’s Handwriting over their heads:

A tall man in his 40’s: Body guard

A Tall blond man on his back: Body guard. Moran?

He also wrote something on top of the pale hand sticking out of the window: **NOT DEAD?**

Not only Sherlock was trying to link all these potential crimes with James Moriarty, but he’s also been following any man that he knew once worked for him, following every possible move, every possible connection.

He also had other two photos of the blond man, but nothing compared to the other half of the wall completely covered with old covers and photos of James Moriarty.

No. She definitely wasn’t expecting this. This escalated way too quickly since the last time she came here almost two months ago and even though she knew what Sherlock’s been doing, this was different from the expected. This level of obsession it only compares to…

***Loud voices downstairs***

-“I’m sorry Mrs. Hudson. I promise I’ll kiss you goodbye next time”-

 

Valery’s eyes widened and immediately grabbed her phone, took some pictures and quickly closed the door, heading to the living room where Rosemond pacifically slept on her portable crib, just when Sherlock was about to open the door

 

-“Hey Sherlock, how was your day?”- The babysitter asked smiling

-“Surprisingly well, actually”- He said while hanging his coat. -“Yours?”-  It was clear Sherlock never cared about this answer, so he never asked anyone in the first place, but just now he was in an unusual good mood, which made the ginger raise a brow

-“Uh, surprising is first word that comes to mind, actually. Mrs. Hudson spent the whole day here and god, the stories she told me”- She said furrowing her eyebrows.

-“Sorry about that”-Sherlock knew Mrs. Hudson enjoyed talking, but at least he’s not the one listening now

-“Ah, It’s okay. It wasn’t that bad”- She waved a hand dismissively.

Sherlock looked at his cellphone screen. -“Well, you can go now if you want, Valery. I’ll keep an eye on Rosamund until John gets home”

-“Really? Thank you! That would be great”- She stood up from the sofa, grabbed her bag and said goodbye.

Once she got inside her car, she grabbed her phone to text someone, then dialed some numbers several times, but no one picked up.

She tried for the tenth time until someone picked up

-"We need to talk"- She said as soon as they answered the call


	5. "It already started"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the "flashbacks" previous and post "The Reichenbach fall", so you have an idea of what Sebastian and Jim were up to.

Location: 中山公园- Shanghai.

Time: 12:54 AM .

 

After a long day dealing with last details of their next move, Sebastian Moran was sitting on one the armchairs in his suite, drinking whiskey and remembering when Jim came back from the death. It was a long time ago, but he remembered every little detail of how his uncontrollable fury turned into something he could never have again.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when his phone rang. Feeling slightly annoyed, he took his cellphone from his pocket and eyed the screen, but waited before answering the call.

-"We need to talk"

-"What is it, redhead?

 -"I have news. Thanks for picking up by the way"

-"Oh for fuck's sake, what is it?"

-"He knows. Well, he doesn't quite know yet, but he's close to. I finally managed to get into Sherlock’s room again and this time it's not just a whiteboard full of crazy ideas, he has pictures, pictures with your face on them"

-"Wait, what?! How the f-"

-"I'm sending you pictures right now"

He opened the message; it was a set of photos. The first one was a map with some locations pinned on it and the others were various papers headlines and printed news.

Sebastian eyes widened as he opened the rest of the messages.

-"That bloody bastard!"- Sebastian clenched his teeth.

 The picture was taken months ago and what angered him the most was the fact that the detective was tailing him and he didn't notice it at all. They even managed to photograph his boss, although the photos only showed a suited arm and pale hand sticking out from a polarized window, it was enough to make him panic. He cursed himself for not being careful enough.

The more he looked into the pictures, the more he realized how accurately the detective had deduced their involvement with most of those crimes, but not with all of them.

He opened the last message and he felt his face red with anger as he saw all the pictures Sherlock had of his boss.

-"Sebastian, are you still there?"

-"Yeah, I am. Tell me, red, why did he leave the apartment? He took the case?

-"He did, according to the GPS. Tell the boss "the game is finally on""

-"You could've start with that. I'll text you the details for the next days and  _please_  don't quote that son of a bitch again"

-"Got it."

-"I'll let you know if anything changes"

He ended the call and walked to the door, but he stopped when he remembered his boss didn't want to be disturbed tonight so he just decided to go to bed and tell him everything next day, after he was done with what Jim asked him to do.

Time: 2:54 PM

It was a dreary evening in the city, only lightened by the numerous neon lights and skyscrapers.

-"谢谢"

(Thank you)- The man in the Prada suit thanked the waitress, holding his glass of Champagne, then continued talking, now facing the man in front of him

-"所以你说几乎准备好了，对吧?"

(So you're saying everything is almost ready, right?)- He asked to the man standing in front of him.

-”老板, 对.  

(Correct, Boss)

-“你确定吗?

(Are you sure about that?) He took a moment to take a sip of his glass and then he continued

-“告诉我。你会打赌你的生活吗? 王强, 重要一点儿 因为我需要你这样做”

(Tell me, would you bet your life on that? Because it’s kind of important and I need you to do that, Wángqiáng)- He said shooting a dangerous glare at the man in front of him.

-“是, 是的老板”-

(Yes, Yes boss)- The man answered, unable to hide the fear on his face

-“好吧.-

(Okay)- Said the irish man in sing song tone of voice. And the continued:

-“对我来说就够了”

(That's enough for me)-  Now with a soft voice, then he stood up, not breaking eye contact.

“一旦我们从岛上回来, 我们会相遇， 别忘了”

(We’re meeting once we're back from the island, don't forget it)- He deadpanned

-“老板, 我不会的。如果你需要我, 请告诉我.”

(I won't, boss. If you need me, please let me know)

-“好的. 你走吧”-

(Alright, leave now）

-“是!”

(Yes!)

Once the man left the Suite, the dark haired man walked closer to the window, still drinking his champagne and contemplating the city. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the relaxing sound of sparking bubbles in his glass and then sighed, knowing this relaxation wouldn’t last for so long.

He recognized his steps the moment he heard them.

Sebastian Moran. He stood right behind Jim, but he didn’t turn around.

-“ Why took you so long?”-Jim said, now turning to face the blond man

-“Why? Did you miss me?

Jim Moriarty chuckled and then took a step closer and then he said:

-“First of all, that’s my line and secondly, you do realize we see each other almost every day, do you?”

Sebastian took another step closer to Jim. Now he could feel his breath on his neck

-“You didn’t answer the question”- He said locking his eyes on Jim’s as he slowly raised a hand, attempting to caress his cheek.

Jim’s expression changed.

-“Well I don’t want to spoil the dog. Pets can be _so_ demanding”- He answered, gazing away as he took two steps back.

He cocked his head and then he angrily raised his voice

 “FEED ME, LOVE ME, I’ll FOLLOW you EVERYWHERE you go!”- Jim yelled, emphasizing the last three words.

Sebastian jumped up in surprise. He was used to Jim’s mood swings by now, but the man was unpredictable.

He fixed his jacked and then he cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

-“You’ve could’ve just say no”- Sebastian said looking down

Moments later, seemed Moriarty to calm down. He turned again to the window and just stay there, staring to the city.

He seemed so calm every time he did this.

Sebastian appreciated these little moments. He knew him better than anyone else and he knew how rare they were.

-“Well, let me know if you need anything”- He finally said, breaking the silence and then turned to leave.

-“Who said you could go?”- Moriarty said softly, still contemplating the view.

Sebastian spun around, looking surprised. He smiled and joined his boss.

-“And?”-

-“What?”- Sebastian asked looking rather confused

-“The text you sent earlier? Are you going to tell me what was so important?”

-“Oh, right!”- The sniper had completely forgotten about it for a moment. –“Your girl called last night and sent me this”

Jim took Sebastian’s phone from his hand and started to open the messages one by one, changing his expression as he did.

Sebastian noticed his boss looked completely delighted by the attention he was getting from the detective.

-“I thought you’d be angry”

-“I am. You waited to tell me about this until now”- Jim’s voice sounded calmed but slightly threatening

-“I didn’t want to disturb you. You actually ordered me not to, remember?”

-“Yes, but this deserved and exception, Sebastian”- He said firmly, without taking his eyes from the phone’s screen. –“Did she say anything else?”

-“Yes. She said “The game was on””- Sebastian finger quoted with a mocking tone, which Jim ignored.

-“She’s good. She’s gold.”- The Irish man hummed absently 

Sebastian just nodded in response. He still felt extremely guilty for letting Sherlock tail him and didn’t know how to address the topic, but he had to do it before Jim saw his pictures.

-“Jim”- He hesitated for a moment but continued –“I’m really sorry. I should have been more careful and no let anyone about me. After everything you’ve done for-” 

-“Look, Sherlock’s giving us the credit for stealing the Jewels in Dubai. The panthers would be offended. Isn’t him adorable?”- Jim interrupted him, still looking too pleased by the information he received

Sebastian felt rather confused when Jim ignored his apology -“it really doesn’t it bother you that he thinks you’re alive?”

-“No. He just needed some encouragement. He’s getting the confirmation later”

-“Meaning?”

-“Meaning that I was the one who let Mycroft know about your existence, therefore that’s why Sherlock knows”

Sebastian felt like someone punched in the face.

-“You did what?”- His voice was barely audible, feeling utterly confused and betrayed

-“Don’t look so shocked, Tiger. I said I let him know about your existence, but everything, EVERYTHING else was completely wiped out. I only let two photos of you behind, knowing that it would only take Sherlock fucking Holmes to finally get to me. Besides, why would I throw away all my efforts to keep you in the shadows just to give you away?”

Sebastian didn't understand. He remained still for a moment, but then rapidly moved towards Jim and put a hand behind his head and forcefully pulled him closer.

-“You let me believe it was my fault”

-“No, dear. You believed that yourself”- Jim’s mocking smile morphed into a dark expression

-“Tell me Jim, is there any other trick I should know about?”- His deep blue eyes squinted in anger. Even knowing well his boss might snap at him any moment, he refused to let him go

-“You should know by now. There’s always more, Sebs”

Sebastian continued to glare at Jim for a moment, but then decided to let him go, sighing in resignation. 

He knew that Jim was full of surprises, but he would ever betray him, not even for his own selfish purposes, right?

Jim straightened himself and dusted the imaginary dust from his shoulders, never stopping glaring at Sebastian 

-"It's true. I never told you about the photos, but you know I'd never betray you, Sebastian"- He said venomously

-"I know. I'm- I'm sorry Jim"- The taller man said avoiding eye contact and feeling ridiculously guilty for doubting Jim.

-"Besides if I wanted to get rid of you I would've done it years ago"- Jim said starting to walk away from Sebastian to contemplate the city again.

When Sebastian didn't say anything else, he continued talking 

-"To avoid any future misunderstandings, I'll tell you everything you need to know"

Jim took another glass of champagne and resumed the conversation 

-"Remember the little club in Coldharbour?

-"Yeah, the one we took from Grisham. What about it?"

-"It’s time for us to make an official appearance as the new owners, not just our doppelgängers. By the way, yours is killing a man in a few weeks”

Sebastian wasn’t sure he understood, but he waited for his boss to explain and after forty minutes, everything was clear.

-“Got it. Just like we did in Berlin"- He said and after a few minutes of silence, he stood beside Jim -"The storm is coming"- he changed the subject. -”It’s going to start very soon"

-"It already started. They better get ready"- Jim answered absently.

The blond man stared at his boss in silence.

Jim couldn't tell, but Sebastian missed him, although it's not like he paid any attention to him. Even though they were only inches apart, he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch him. Jim always made really clear they were nothing but employer and employee and he didn't want any unnecessary distraction from his new game. Especially not now.

After another hour discussing the last details of the plan, Sebastian left Jim's suite and went to the bar. He drank some whiskey and went to back to bed; He soon drifted off into sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be an important day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m learning Chinese for a while now, so I decided to add some, because why not.  
> 


	6. "Die Toteninsel"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment. I’d love to know what you guys think about this so far!

Location: 221B, Baker Street 

Time: 09:13

It’s been three weeks since Sherlock solved the case. At least partially, and this time he had the company of his good friend John, who's finally getting some days off work. Even though he really wanted to get some rest, he was still an adrenaline junkie, so he left Rosamund with the babysitter and joined Sherlock, just like the old times.

The drug lord, or "Berkeley's Lord", like Sherlock accurately predicted John would name him, was killed by another French drug gang member, but even though they found the killer, Sherlock wasn't entirely satisfied. The brown haired killer was middle aged man with a freshly made tattoo in the back of his hand. The number "57". Probably the amount of murders he committed. He admitted to be guilty, but refused to talk about his boss. Lestrade allowed him to interrogate the killer, but all he got was some insults in French. He needed to know who put the origami heart under that man's tongue.

-"I don't understand. Greg told you it wasn't Scotland Yard's problem anymore, so why are you still sulking about this?"

-"Just because the French justice took the case it doesn't mean it's over. There must be a reason to-”

Suddenly he remembered the neglected origami heart in his pocket. He got on his feet and re-tied his scarf –“I have something to do”- Sherlock said and left before John could object.

Location: Bart’s Lab 

The lab was clear. He started to analyze the small figure. He needed a quiet place to think so it was impossible to do it at home. 

Since he couldn't find anything under the microscope, he decided to try something he used in his memory palace long ago. Ultra violet lightning and there it was: invisible ink. It was a musical score printed all over the figure. "A minor orchestra” Sherlock didn't seem to recognize it.

 At least he felt better knowing he’s finally getting some useful information from his homeless network. They told him the club only opened three times a week and he had to go unarmed, but considering how dangerous the place was, he had to protect himself.

His thoughts were interrupted when Greg opened the door.

-"There you are! "- Greg said almost breathless.-" I was hoping to find you here. You're needed"

-"What for?"

-"Stolen paintings. They were taken last week from different museums and it looks like one of them was brought to London"

This caught Sherlock's attention. -“And how do you know that?”

-“Because everyone’s been trying to track them down and we received an anonymous call saying someone here bought one of the pieces”

-"Anonymous call?"-Sherlock frowned skeptically, but he pocketed the heart again and followed Greg, who was gesturing for him to do so.

Location: Scotland Yard headquarters, London

Sherlock immediately recognized the accents of the people waiting for him. They were from Germany and Switzerland and that was all the confirmation he needed.

The long lost sensation of adrenaline he craved was finally there. 

These people came from the museums that displayed the only paintings that could be related to the musical score he had in his pocket and the universe is rarely so lazy.

-“Good morning everyone. Given the fact that neither of you travelled from New York, you must come in representation of Kunstmuseum Basel, the Old National Gallery in Berlin and the Museum der bildenden Künste, to recover The Island of the dead by Swiss painter Arnold Böcklin. Am I wrong?”- Sherlock asked with a smug smile on his face. -“Detective Inspector Greg didn’t have to tell me; actually you just did, in case you’re wondering.”

They all looked at each other for a moment with obvious confusion on their faces, but after Greg explained that was Sherlock being Sherlock, they decided to go on with the details of the subtraction. 

The three paintings were stolen the same week three weeks ago and they have reasons to believe, beyond the anonymous call that at least only one of them made it to London. CCTV was disabled, but traffic cameras showed a black vehicle in all three occasions, which ended up completely burned in every case.

The stolen versions were from 1880, 1883 and 1886, but he knew the musical score was inspired by the one version that is no longer available.

A hand in front of him made him jump in surprise. Sherlock was so lost in his thoughts; he didn't realize what just happened.

-"Are you coming?"- Greg asked noticing the confused look on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock just nodded and followed the man. 

 

Location: Coldharbour 

Time: 1.03 PM

Once they got to the place Sherlock realized the reason they were in such a rush had nothing to do with the paintings. 

There was a man sitting in a bench outside the "L’araignée club". His was crossing arms and legs, just like their last case, but he wasn't blindfolded this time. His eyes were removed.

Sherlock was planning on visiting the club tonight and this case was the perfect opportunity.

Sherlock took a few steps closer to the macabre display. He frowned. The man had a envelope in one of his hands. 

He put on his rubber gloves and took it from the corpse and he opened before Greg could say a word.

"39"

-"What does it say?"

Sherlock handed the envelope to Greg, wondering what the hell was that supposed to mean.

-"Sir, we have a witness"- Donovan said to Greg.

***

 They took the witness back to the station. They found out the victim and another man had a fight last night at the club and then they both went outside and never came back. The place belonged to a man called Phillip Grisham. Rumor has it he lost it and gave it to the new owner as payment, but no one seems to know who this person is.

-"Can I interrogate him now? - Sherlock asked 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Greg agreed.

***

 

-"I already told you everything I know."

-"Untrue. You said the victim and some other man had a fight. If you saw him, then you can describe him"

-"I don- I didn't see him clearly"

Sherlock studied the man's face for a moment. He was lying. There were clear signs of fear on his face.

-"if you’re afraid because you think taking might get you in trouble, you should m have thought Better before going to a place like that"

-"I didn't kno-"

-"didn't know what? That it was a clandestine betting house?- Sherlock interrupted him sardonically. -"if you don't talk, I'll make sure they arrest you for illegal gambling and drug possession"

-"'What? I don't do drugs!"

-"You don't, but I can prove you do. Check your left pocket"

The man slid his hand into his pockets and grabbed the small cocaine packet 

-"This is not mine!"

-"Of course not. I just grabbed from an evidence bag, but who do you think they'll believe?"- Sherlock asked the man looking so serious it made the man blink nervously.

The man sighed.-"it was a tall blond man. Probably in his 30's"

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat.

"Sebastian Moran" he whispered to himself.

-"Look that's all I know, I swear. Can I go now?

Sherlock glared at the man for a moment but then nodded in agreement.

 

Later that day, he returned to Bart’s. They body had to be analyzed and he had to get as much information as he could. He was wrong last time. The last case wasn’t just a reckoning, it was definitely a message, but would it be too soon, too egocentric of him to assume it was for him?

It was the same result. The body was clean but there wasn’t any other message besides the one in the envelope. Could this be Moran’s work?

He remained still for a few minutes, just thinking until his phone vibrated. He took it from his pocket and frowned at the screen. 

Blocked number

"You're slipping."

 

Sherlock froze for a few seconds, but decided to text back

 

“Who is this?”

Almost a minute later his phone vibrated again

Blocked number

“"L’araignée”

Sherlock’s heart leapt. Of course this could be anyone, but this felt disturbingly familiar. He knew it was “wrong” for him to wish the most dangerous man in London was alive, but he felt selfish enough to wish for it. Even if he hated to admit it, he was the only one able to provide that level of adrenaline.

No more drugs, just the taste of danger.

He was staring to text again when another text came in

Blocked number

“11.00 PM”

 

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. This person wanted to return at the crime scene, which was surely still surrounded by police men. “Probably not that difficult if you’re used to hide in plain sight”- He mused.

 

Location:  L’araignée Club’s front - Coldharbour 

Time: 10.46 PM

Sherlock scanned the street. There was only one police car parked outside the club and no one patrolling in the back. He definitely expected the area to be more secured.

-“Sorry, you can’t be here”- One of the police men said as Sherlock approached the tape cordon.

-“I’m here to investigate. Detective Greg asked me to come”

-“Now?”

-“Yes. You can call him if you consider it necessary”- Sherlock answered nonchalantly, hoping the officer didn’t actually call him. He didn’t want to explain why he needed to “investigate” this late.

-“Let him in!”- Another officer yelled from behind. Sherlock turned to see the man

–“Hey Sherlock! just go do your thing. I’ll let detective inspector Greg know you’re already here”

Sherlock studied the man. Mid 30’s, ironically an ex con and probably never been married. He never saw him before. He’s obviously here to help Moriarty get into the club safely.

-“Alright”- The officer let him in and Sherlock gave the other man a thin smile.

Inside the club, everything was dark, but he didn’t want to turn any lights, so he used his phone.

He walked towards the long stairwell but stopped mid-way when he heard the wooden floor cracking. He slowly climbed the stairs until reaching the second floor. There were many rooms so he decided to wait for another noise to guide him.

He heard steps again and decided to follow the noise through the extensive corridor. It led him to the last room. The smell of humidity and wax were filling the place.

He entered the room.

**_Bang!_ **

 

The door was abruptly closed behind him, making him jump. Sherlock swallowed hard.

-“So you managed to fool everyone for five years and decided you were bored again. Am I supposed to be impressed?”- He feigned nonchalance, but in reality, he was both scared and ridiculously excited.

Since he didn't receive a response, he continued -"I'll admit you even fooled me and I certainly have no idea of how you did it, but I'm sure you must be feeling quite proud of yourself"- The detective said in a husky voice, getting deeper with every word.

The place remained silent for a full minute until the detective felt someone walking in his direction. It was so dark he had to trust his other senses to detect his nemesis.

He smelled a masculine scent. It was woody and spicy, mixed in with a bit of musk, jasmine, amber, nutmeg, vanilla, and…rum? he knew the name of the fragrance.

-“ _Straight to heaven_ , Huh?”- Sherlock gave a small chuckle.  -“I’m glad you appreciate the Irony.”

His enemy stopped and Sherlock wasn’t sure where he was anymore. He felt tempted to use his phone to see him, but it might be considered a dangerous move now. 

Suddenly it hit him. He didn’t bring a gun with him and he immediately felt even more nervous.

The other man started to move again, circling him, just like that day in Bart’s rooftop.

 _Wait._ suddenly something felt wrong. He frowned

-“Why do I have the feeling I’m not the person you were expecting?”

Sherlock didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew exactly who this person was.

-“Hello, Sherlock"- He lit a candle right behind him and then placed it on the desk. Sherlock turned to face the man.

-"Sebastian Moran”- The blond gave him a scornful smile –“We finally meet.”


	7. "W"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets Sebastian Moran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a long chapter, but I will update again this week. Leave a comment if you can :) Enjoy!

-"Sebastian Moran. We finally meet”

Sherlock froze on the spot.

It was the ex-Colonel.  He silently tried deducing the blond man.  He was taller than he imagined, even taller than him but not by much. Strong, ambidextrous, with visible battle scars on his arms, some smaller ones on his face. He had a British accent, but didn’t sound entirely English. There wasn’t much to see. “His boss taught him well”- He thought.

He knew it was possible Sebastian showed up, but truth to be told, he was hoping to see his employer.

The blond man chuckled -”You look Disappointed. I would almost swear you were expecting someone else”- He turned the scornful expression into a fake pout, just like Moriarty would.

-“Not really."-Sherlock kept feigning nonchalance.  –“It was a matter of time before we met so it doesn’t make a difference if it’s you or your boss. I’m just surprised he didn’t came to handle this personally”- He replied in a husky voice

–“Boss?”- The taller man raised his voice. –“I thought you wanted to know what happened here”

-“I do, but I highly doubt you tell me what you did”

-“Whoa! It wasn’t me who killed that man”

-“So I must assume another man who matches your physical description killed him?”- Sherlock tilted his head, widening his eyes and raising both brows.

-“Well, believe it or not that’s exactly what happened. He did it in my absence so you could come out and play now that I’m here. You’re slipping, detective.”

-“I see. He was too busy to come so he send _you_ instead”- Sherlock said more to himself than to the other man

-“Wait, Who do think is my boss?”

Sherlock sighed “You know _I_ know you’re stalling, so just tell me. Where is he?”- He demanded.

-“I don’t know what are you talking about, detective”- The blond man said in a mocking tone.

-“You’re going to make me say it? Fine. Moriarty! I know you two were working together. That’s why you’re here”

Sebastian glared at him for a moment -“Well, I guess there’s no point in denying it now.”- He swallowed hard. –“it’s true. He was my boss”

Sherlock furrowed his brows –“ _Was_?”

-“Yes, he _was_. You _saw_ him, he shot himself”- He narrowed his eyes

-“Yeah, right. Tell me why should I believe you? You lied to me just a moment ago”

-“You can believe whatever you want. I’m not here to discuss Jim. I’m here to _warn_ you. You’re messing with my web and now you’re annoy the hell out of me now so Back off, Holmes.”- Sebastian’s tone was positively menacing, but Sherlock remained unwavering.

-“So you expect me to believe that you’re the one behind this…“Crime wave”? - Sherlock said sounding both arrogant and sardonic.-“Please.  We both know you’re not the one pulling the strings”

-“And why would that be?”- The sniper glared at the detective.

Sherlock glared back for a moment -“There’s a brilliant mind behind there flawlessly executed crimes. Something familiar I’ve only seen when facing an equal. You may be the second most dangerous criminal in London, Moran, but you’re not Moriarty”

There was a dangerous glint in Sebastian’s eyes. –“Oh, I see. You don’t think I’m smart enough to play “the game”? – He forced a laugh.-“That was the difference between Jim and me. I don’t like games”- His eyes turned dark.

Sherlock knew he wasn’t. When he didn’t say anything, Sebastian continued.-“But seriously, you really think he was your equal?”

-“He is”- The detective said dryly

-“Hm well… Let’s agree to disagree. Jim didn't have an equal, but… you keep thinking that”- Sebastian winked at Sherlock. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to him.

-“I’m asking for the last time, Moran. _Where is he?"_

“Probably six feet under the ground. Where did you think he was?”- He raised his voice

-“Oh, please. You’re a _terrible_ liar! I bet Moriarty’s best man can do better than that”- He chuckled venomously

-“You know, he would be _seriously_ disappointed, Sherlock. Everyone knows no one survives that”- The sniper mocked the detective and anger suddenly ignited in Sherlock's eyes.

He rapidly walked closer to the other man and grabbed him by the collar –“Cut the crap, Moran. I don’t know what are you trying to do, but I highly suggest you stop this now and tell me _where's_ Moriarty!" Sherlock demanded in a menacing tone.

Sebastian remained still in the detective’s grasp, smiling, mocking him. He was clearly stronger, but he wanted to play with him and Sherlock knew it.

 The detective shook his head, never breaking eye contact. -“Tell me. How’s that am I alive hm? I bet you would’ve love putting a bullet in my head if you knew your boss died in vane after I faked my death.”

Sherlock watched as Sebastian’s smile disappeared from his face. He opened his mouth to answer, but the detective didn’t give him the chance -“Did you suffer, colonel? Did you celebrate? If he’s dead I want proof. _Solid_ proof”

The ex-military stared hard at him for a moment and gave him an insincere smile -"Someone’s obsessed”- He mused abruptly pushing Sherlock away before he could react.

-“Want my advice? _Let go_. You should've known there is somebody else pulling the strings now, and that's the reason you have a case. Now _solve it_ ”- Sebastian said in a toneless voice as he stood by the door. –“You’ll be hearing from me.”

-“Wait!”- The detective screamed, but the man was already gone.

-“Somebody else?”- He sighed. Could it be possible that he was wrong about everything? Was Moriarty really dead after all? Everything pointed in that direction, but his gut was screaming otherwise.

It happened too fast. Feeling slightly disoriented, he searched for something, anything that might give him some answers. He didn’t noticed when Sebastian put the small envelope on the desk. He opened it

 

“ZLVH NLQJV  JHQHUDOOB KDYH

ZLVH FRXQFHORUV”

Z.AA

 

 

-“What?”- Sherlock recognized the code. It was Caesar’s cipher, the first code “anonymous” used to send him the message years ago, so he quickly decoded it.

-“W? Who the hell is W?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sherlock will pay Eurus a Visit


	8. The higher up, The greater the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was edited to correct some typos*

 

A week later, Greg Lestrade found the killer. The German man confessed killing Ronald Adair. The victim was a regular player and he murdered him because he noticed he was cheating. 

Sherlock didn't say a word to anyone about his encounter with Sebastian, but he asked the killer about him, Moriarty and “W”. The man denied knowing them and judging by his body language, he was telling the truth. By the end of the week, he received another envelope with a message and photos which were allegedly of Moriarty's pale body. The message said they were taken and extracted from a former member of his network days after his suicide. He carefully examined them and after days, he decided they were photoshopped.

But if they were real and Moriarty was dead, Sebastian still had a new employer and he sent him a message.

“Wise Kings generally have wise counselors”

W.xx

 

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

Was Sherlock supposed to assume all three messages emailed to him were from this “W” person? He’s also apparently behind all this crimes, and if that was the case, he was definitely a worthy adversary, but this could also be Moriarty messing with him.

The second week after the encounter, he received a call from his mother. She told him she and her husband forced Mycroft to cancel any kind of restriction on his sister’s visit. They also been insisting on transferring her since they found out their daughter was alive, and of course they would, but who knows when that will happen.

In the meantime, Sherlock decided it was time to pay his sister a visit.

 

Location: Sherrinford facility 

Time: 10.37 AM

 

 “If Eurus could accurately predict three terrorists attacks, why didn’t she anticipated Jim wanted me to jump? She’d never let him ruin her plans. Both had to know I wasn’t going to do it.”- He said to no one.

Sherlock walked towards the cell where his sister was.  Eurus was reading a book when he arrived. She definitely looked better than she did when he first saw her and if he didn't know any better, he'd say she's "normal" now. She had a healthier complexion so she finally started eating properly and that's probably thanks to their parents. Her hair was shorter and tied in a ponytail. 

-"Sherlock! I was wondering when I'd see you again"- Eurus said without looking away from his book. 

-"Hel-"

-"A moment. I’m about to finish page 25"- she interrupted Sherlock. She quickly finished what she was reading and put the book on her desk.

The cell was different too. There was a white couch now, a plant and well, that desk.

-"I apologize for the interruption. You were going to say hello"- Eurus said smiling as she walked toward the glass separating her from her brother.

-"Hello Eurus"- he smiled thinly -"I… I’m sorry it took me so long to come visit you. I was-"

-"Busy. I know. I heard about London's current situation. Apologizes are meaningless, It's okay. It's only been three months and two weeks since your last visit."

-"How did you fin-."- He stopped for a moment and the he realized he already knew the answer to his question -"Our Mother”

-"Precisely. As you already know, I'm not allowed to handle any kind of electronic device unless they need something from me, so mother reads the newspaper for me. I find it quite relaxing, and now they let me keep it after she leaves. I read about all the brilliant heists and murders. No wonder why you're needed. It takes a brilliant mind to catch another"

-"So you think there's only one person behind all these crimes?"

-"Oh, Sherlock. If you have to ask that, I'd rather to resume my reading"- she said walking towards her bed.

-"I heard they revoked all restrictions for your visits"-Sherlock raised his voice to get his sister's attention. He scanned the room.

-"Yes. They also removed their cameras and microphones, we can talk"

-"Are you certain about that?"

-"Yes. You want to know about one of my Christmas presents. That's why you're here."

Sherlock pursed his lips. -"No. That's not why I'm here”

She walked closer to the glass. -"Yes it is. You want to know about a specific visitor. You want to know what I know about James Moriarty, am I wrong?

-"What makes you think that?"

-"I can see it"

They both studied each other for a moment.

-"You know, Mycroft doesn't really visit his _evil_ sister, but last time I saw him, he told me you were busy trying to prove your nemesis was alive"- Eurus lifted one corner of her lips to form a smile.

Sherlock sighed -"Of course he did. He surely told you I was crazy too"

-"He didn't have to”- She widened her eyes. –“But I understand why you might believe that"

-"You do?"

-"Yes. Now ask me what you want to know"

-"What did you two talk about? I'm assuming there was more than just planning my destruction. There’s has to be more than that”

She fell silent for a full minute and then replied; breaking eye contact -"He told about his brother,  he seemed to recent him, but five minutes it's not enough to make me an expert"

-"It's not? I thought five minutes was ample"

She smiled -"Not when it comes to James Moriarty. I know that's what you said on court, and of course you were trying to impress but I'm sure you already know you were. How do I know? It doesn't matter, little brother, so let's move on"

Sherlock frowned, but decided to let that go. She continued 

-"He told me he had a plan for you and he assured it wouldn’t interfere with _mine_ , since he expected you to make it out alive from his"

Sherlock’s expression changed. -"He told you he knew I was going to fake my dead and that he planned to kill himself from the very beginning?

-"Obviously. Why else would he record the videos? He was certain you’d survive. He even said the idea of me playing with your head using his face exited him. Unfortunately that's all I can tell you since our brief conversation was mostly about my plan and we knew how it turned out"

-"But what about the brother. Did he tell you anything else?"

-"He only mentioned him once when we talked about the videos"- she Paused for a moment. -"Do _I_ think he's alive? The answer is I don’t”

Sherlock wasn't sure if he believed her. They both studied each other for a moment.

-"You think I'm lying"- Eurus said smiling again.

-"You seem to know way more about Moriarty than you’re letting me know, so I don’t know, Eurus. Are you?"- He said matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes and giving her a serious stare.

-"I'm tired. I'd to get some sleep now."- She said turning her back on Sherlock and walking towards her bed-"By the way, did you ever find out who your stalker was?"-

The detective titled his head, furrowing his eyebrows

-"The one sending you the emails? You posted the messages on your page. I think last time they used a pigpen cipher"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes-" You said you're not allowed to handle electronic devices, how do know about that?

-"Those are really old messages and I used to be a fan of your page. It's a shame you never figured it out. Good night, little brother"

Eurus said getting into bed without looking at him. She clapped and the lights went off.

Sherlock knew Eurus wasn't going to talk anymore, so feeling defeated, he just left. 

“Maybe Sebastian was saying the truth after all”

 

 

Location: Picadelly - Westminster, London.

Time: 02.17 PM

 

-“Honey, I’m Home!” – Sebastian said laud enough for his boss to hear him. He went upstairs and entered the studio where he was waiting for him.

-“What are you reading?”

-“Il principe by Niccolò Machiavelli”

-“Again? It’s like the fourth time this month”

-“Third time. And you should try feeding your brain for a change”- Jim said in a mocking tone.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. –“Well, I’m here to feed _you_. I can do that later”- He said as he unpacked the Tai food.

-“This is without a doubt what I hate the most about being back in London”

-“Tai food?”

-“Hiding. All the time. I love Tai cuisine, but I can’t go to a restaurant to order it”

-“Well, whose fault is that? Besides, you only got here this morning”

-“Shut up”- Jim barked, taking one of the small containers -“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“Of course not. I been here for three weeks and no one seems to suspect a thing. Except for _the detective,_ obviously”

–“Well, you wanted to introduce yourself. Now tell me how it went with him, since you wouldn’t tell me on the phone”

-“Yeah, I wasn’t sure the jammer was working and I forgot the code for “arrogant prick” – The sniper chuckled to himself. Jim rolled his eyes in response -“You should’ve seen his face when he saw me. It was a mixture between surprise and utter disappointment. Oh, and _anger_. He snapped when I told him you were dead”

-“But he didn’t buy it”

-“Not for a second. He’s probably still pulling his hair off, trying to figure out what the message means”

Moriarty sighed, disappointed. –“The higher up, the greater the fall. I see he hasn’t changed at all. That’s the thing about Sherlock. He always wants everything to be clever, always looking for the wrong hidden message. That-”- He paused for a moment. –“That leads him to miss what’s really important”

Sebastian swallowed his food -“Well, I must admit I’m glad I’m not the only one. If a genius like Holmes can’t get it, don’t expect _me_ to understand what’s going on in that wicked mind of yours”

–“It’s okay if you don’t, honey”- He said absently.

-“So what’s next?”

-“I say it’s time the new mysterious criminal master mind takes control of the situation” - Jim smiled manically and he stood up and grabbed a disposable cellphone from a box on one of the shelves.

The sniper frowned -“Who are you texting?”

-“ _Mr. Worth_ is now texting Sherlock”

-“Am I going to play the carrier pigeon again?”

-“You won’t have to, but soon you still have to see him again”

Suddenly, his phone rang from his pocket. He took it and his face lights up

-“Oh, Looks who’s calling”

 

 


	9. "Only You"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I decided to split the one long chapter I wrote in two. I thought it would be easier to read (it had more than 3.000 words)  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Things start getting twisted.

 Location: 221B Baker Street, London

 

After spending the whole day wandering around, Sherlock was finally home. He opened the door and went upstairs. He quickly scanned the apartment and immediately noticed something was off.

All the furniture had been clean and everything’s been organized.

Since John took Rosamund to his sister’s house for the weekend, there wasn’t any reason for Valery to come and he already convinced Mrs. Hudson to stop dusting the place so there was only one explanation.

Sherlock reached for his phone and realized he had a message.

Blocked number

“Consider it a “Getting-to-know-you” present”

 

The detective frowned. He searched for whatever “his present” was, but when he noticed he already checked every corner of the living room, he realized that probably happened what he dreaded the most. Someone entered his room.

Feeling slightly agitated, he unlocked his door. He turned the lights on, and there it was on his bed: A black envelope.

Sherlock took it and frowned when he noticed the noise it made every time he moved it. He realized there were small pieces of something in it.

He opened mouth agape. There were 25 dental pieces inside it, each peace with a letter and a number on it and one of the letters had a question mark, which formed the sentence:

“Moriarty’s dead believe me now?”

Sherlock froze for a moment. Were these Moriarty’s? If so, there wasn’t any way to know, since he deleted all the   information about him. He could try asking Molly, or even Mycroft, but the letters on the pieces would make it really difficult to explain.

-“Mycroft!”- He remembered. The Quote on the envelope he received two weeks ago.

-“How come I didn’t see it before?”

The quote was from Greek philosopher and one of founder of Cynic philosophy, Diogenes. This wasn’t just a random quote.

He rushed to the street to get a taxi, but just when he got in the car, another text came in:

Blocked number

“Wherever it is you’re going, it’s not the right place”

 

Sherlock quickly replied

“Where should I go then?”

 

Blocked number

“That taxi is for you. The driver knows where”

 

As he finished reading the last message, panic and adrenaline started to take over his mind and body. Whoever he was going to meet, whether it was Moriarty or somebody else, he knew it was going to be both exceptionally enthralling and lethal.

After a long 46 minutes ride, which felt like hours, the taxi finally stopped at what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.

Sherlock memorized the names of every street except for the one where he was right now, since he didn’t see any sign, but at least he knew he could run and get a taxi back home if he had to.

-“He’s waiting for you” – The cabbie said to him as the engine stopped.

After hearing this, Sherlock felt his heart leapt and slowly got off the car.

 He didn’t know exactly what to expect, so he decided he should just enter the building completely unarmed, again.

There were too many doors so he didn’t know where to go, so he just walked to the main area.

-“I thought you’d be pleased to see me”- A soft but unfamiliar voice echoed across the place, and suddenly, the lights turned on.

Sherlock looked up to meet this mysterious person, but much to his displeasure, it wasn’t James Moriarty. It was a tall man with darker complexion than the Irish man, definitely older too, but there wasn’t much he could see from where he was standing.

-“Oh? You didn’t get the reference”- The man pouted. He was positively mimicking Moriarty now. “You’re not armed. Should I be offended? Maybe you don’t perceive me as treat”

Sherlock watched the man’s every move from his spot. –“Are you Anonymous?”

-“You won’t even ask how I know you’re not armed?”

-“I saw the sensors. Are you going to tell me who you are?

The man sighed dramatically as he slowly started to go down the stairwell.

-“I thought you knew that by now. I’m your equal! I’m you and you’re me”

Sherlock chuckled-“I admit you’re clever, but it doesn’t make you my equal. I don’t even know your name. Should I call you W or Anonymous?

-“Mr. Worth. Pleased to meet you Mr. Holmes”

“Worth?” it sounded familiar but he couldn’t get an answer from his mind palace right now.

-“The dental pieces…were they Moriarty’s?

The man stopped in the middle of the stairwell and looked down at Sherlock as he said something incredibly offensive.

-“So you still don’t believe me, don't  you?”

Sherlock tilted his head but didn’t say a word.

The man looked away and shook his head -“Oh, he doesn’t believe it. Well…Let’s show him guys!”

The sudden scream made Sherlock jump in surprise, but the scream wasn’t the only thing scaring him now.

In a second, an open bag full of bones hit the ground, inches from Sherlock’s spot. He stared with absolute horror when he realized those bones probably belonged to his former enemy.

-“is this-?

-“It is true what they say. The higher up, the greater the fall! James Moriarty. In the… well, not in the flesh, but in the bones!”- The man laughed to his own bad joke as he finally approached Sherlock. –“This”-He pointed at the skeletal figure –“is the past. I’m the present! And I assure you I’ll provide a whole kind of fun, for both of us”

Sherlock wasn’t even listening. Instead, he grabbed the skull and tried to examine it. Judging by the state of the cranial bones and the size of the femur and tibia, there was a high chance this was Moriarty’s skeleton.

But even if he wasn't sure, Sherlock felt numb. A sharp but unidentified feeling took over him. He didn’t even notice when the other man standing next to him, touched his shoulder –“I see. You really expected “this” to be one of Jim’s stunts. You should take Sebastian advice and _let go,_ man”

The right thing for Sherlock was to feel relieved to finally see Moriarty was gone. After everything he did, it would be crazy to hope for something else. But why did he feel so… what was the word?

After realizing he was now under a new treat, he managed to put himself together, and finally looking away from the sack of bones, he asked –“What do you want from me?”

-“Actually-”

In that moment, the lights went off again and a famous song from the 50’s started to play. Sherlock frowned.

 

_“Only you can make this world seem right_

_Only you can make the darkness bright_

_Only you and you alone_

_Can thrill me like you do_

_And fill my heart with-"_

Right after that part, the song was abruptly cut off

 

**_Bang-Bang Bang!_ **

Three close gunshots echoed across the warehouse and Sherlock instinctively threw himself to the ground, covering his head.

-“Sorry about that”

 He felt steps coming closer to him.

-“But, it’s true. You are my destiny, my dear”- A soft voice whispered in his ear. He recognized the accent and his heart leapt. He carefully stood up and seconds later the lights were back on. He immediately saw his new enemy on lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood.

-“I’m absolutely sure that _none_  of the things I’m about to say have crossed your mind”

Sherlock blinked rapidly. His attention was now focused on the small man on the other side of the facility.

 -“Just like your answers haven’t crossed mine”- Moriarty added.

-"Jim"- The detective barely whispered. He wanted to move, but he was rooted to the spot. 

James Moriarty stopped pacing and smiled widely with both hands in his pockets.

-“Miss me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't know what song is, here it is:  
> https://youtu.be/9r2pEdc1_lI
> 
> I apologize if there's any typos. I wrote most of the chapter on my phone, as usual and I was really exited about posting this one so maybe I missed one or 20 (jk).  
> I'll correct them later :)


	10. "Redemption"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Moriarty comes back from the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to edit the chapter because the version I posted wasn't the final result.
> 
> I recently changed the rating to "Explicit”, because, well... I don’t want to spoil it by being so obvious. 
> 
> Enjoy

-“Miss me?”

The two words echoed in Sherlock’s mind, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He realized he was staring open mouthed, but he couldn’t help it. He was right, Moriarty was alive.

He silently observed his not- so dead enemy from the distance. The first thing on his mind was the obvious fact that he wasn’t holding any guns. “So he still doesn’t want to get his hands dirty”- he thought. The man obviously looked older, but if Sherlock could bring himself to admit it, he looked even better than before. Still thin. Slightly but still noticeably muscular. Apparently-

-“You know…”- Jim said loudly, knowing he interrupted his deductions on him –“This is _reeeally_ not how I intended to reveal myself to you.”- He started to move slowly around the pool of blood separating him from the detective.

–“I had the whole thing planned! I even hired _him_ to play the role of “Mr. Worth”- He said, bending next to the body –“But this useless bastard’s been doing a _terrible_ job ever since.”- He got on his feet and started to walk away.

Sherlock’s eyes followed the criminal, but he remained glued to his spot. -“I knew it”- he whispered to himself.

Moriarty read his lips. –“Yes. I made sure you found out”- He deadpanned.

Sherlock knew it was true. He sighed dramatically and suddenly, he bursts out laughing.

The criminal tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, walking closer -“What is it?”

 Sherlock gave him a smug smirk –“I’m laughing because…”- He paused and watched Jim carefully for a moment.-“I knew you wouldn’t be a disappointment. I can see you still have a flair for the dramatic”

Jim’s dark eyes glistened -“What can I tell you? _To die was an art_ ” 

-“ _Mori-art-ti._ Brilliant _"-_ Sherlock said stunned _-"_ I guess there’s no point in asking about how you did it”- They both started to circle each other

-“Then why make such an obvious statement? You cle-”

-“Why did you go through the trouble of making me believe you were dead again?”- He interrupted, gazing at him

-“Oh. That!”- Jim was the one laughing now. –“That was for my entertainment. But seriously, you should have seen your face when they dropped that corpse and you just assumed it was me. You  _really_  are slipping, detective. Was it the size?”

 -"I knew that wasn’t-”

-“And now you’re lying. I saw it Sherlock. What was it? Disappointment?”

Sherlock swallowed hard, Jim continued.

-“Well, I guess it’s rather understandable. Considering all the effort you put into your “ _little project”-_ He air quoted sardonically, making Sherlock freeze in his tracks

Oh, damn. He completely forgot about that. The detective looked at “Worth’s” body. It would’ve been way easier to explain that to him.

-"All those pictures, the locations, the organizational charts… I’m flattered, Sherlock. I really am”- Jim said, shaking his head slightly from side to side. –“Although you gotta admit it’s kind of creepy. _Even for me!_ ”- He raised his voice as he finished that sentence. –“But I can’t take the credit for all those crimes”

Jim looked too amused for the detective’s liking.

Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly –“Not all of them then, but you do take credit for the majority of the crimes. Am I wrong?”

-"Why would you think that?"

-"Because of the way they were executed. They had your seal all over them. Clean, clever, elegant and remarkably-"

-“Alright. I get it."- Moriarty interrupted. He studied his face for a moment –“I was right”- He said softly

Sherlock frowned –“About what?”

Jim fell silent for a moment before replaying - “You _do_ need me"

Sherlock tried his best to keep a straight face, determined not to let his brilliant enemy know he was right, thing that would've been easy if it wasn't because the criminal was now invading his personal space. They were closer than they were at Bart's rooftop. So close Sherlock could feel Jim's breath on his neck

 -"Am I wrong?"- He whispered softly, sending chills down the detective's spine.

Sherlock stepped back -"You're too full of yourself"

-"Maybe. But so it’s your room! That doesn’t make it any less true, Au contraire"- Jim said as his voice went to a high falsetto. He observed the detective’s reaction and felt positively pleased by his sudden lack of clever comebacks.

-“It’s okay, my dear. The waiting is over now. Daddy’s back.”- He said in a sing-song tone, but keeping his usual stoic expression”

Taking a sharp breath, the detective and walked towards him.

 -“So _Daddy_ was bored…”- They were now inches from each other-“Now he needs to play games again”

-“And you _looove_ that, don’t you?”- Jim gave him a wicked smile which made Sherlock’s breath caught for unknown reasons.

Jim walked away from him. Sherlock followed him slowly.

-"You could've stay dead forever. What made you change your mind?"- The detective asked 

-"You just said it"

-"But why now? I highly doubt you started to feel _bored_ just recently "

-"Just... consider this an opportunity for redemption"

-"Redemption?"- Sherlock chuckled -"And what do you want from me?"

-"Last time, you proved to be a major disappointment. Now, I want you toprove that you're not."- He paused for a moment.-"So"He said in a business-like tone –“What do you know about The Isle of the Dead?”

-“Just what they told me. All three paintings were stolen the same week, three weeks ago”

Jim nodded –“Keep going”

“The stolen versions were from 1880, 1883 and 1886, but the musical score you sent me was inspired by the 1884’s version”

-“Very good. Go on”

-“They think at least one of them was brought to London. But, they’re all here, right?

-“Atta boy”- Jim feigned to be impressed –“What else?”

–“I don’t… know where they are. That’s all I know”- He admitted bitterly

Jim rolled his eyes –“Of course you don’t. I’m asking about the details, Sherlock”

Sherlock hated to admit it, but he had no idea what the man was talking about. Jim noticed this and ran a hand over his face.

-“You seriously don’t know. I’m talking about _Details_ , Sherlock. You should pay attention to them”- He said taking his mobile from his pocket.

-“Are you going to Call Moran to come clean up the mess?”- The English man asked nonchalantly

Jim snickered -“Oh, I don’t need to call him. Here’s right there”

Sherlock looked behind his back and realized what the Irish man meant when he saw the broken window.

-“So this is _his_ mess”

-"Was it a bad day today? I can see this is _definitely_ not your brightest moment. Would you like to reschedule?"- Jim mocked, raising both brows.

-"Doubtfully. I admit I may have been slipping due to the lack of challenge you used to provide, but I presume you’ll compensate me for all these years"- He said smiling like a maniac

-"And the drugs, remember that before blaming me"

-"Untrue. I been clean since your criminal empire started to rise again"- Sherlock blurted out

-"Again? You  _do_  know you never dismantle it, right? Not completely”

-"Of course"

-"But not at first. No. You spent two years trying, and I _let_  you. Well, Partially. We made sure that the networks you destroyed could be rebuilt again"

"You mean you and Moran?"

The criminal nodded -"So when did you realize how unsuccessful those years were?

-"Unsuccessful? Oh, I wouldn't say that"- Sherlock sneered, circling Jim again -"Not for you, at least. You managed to alienate me from everyone"

-"Well, I was dead, in my defense. It's not my fault you couldn’t let go"

Sherlock scowled -"Who else knows you're not, besides Moran and me, of course?”

-"Not to be rude, Sherlock, but that's none of your business"- He said sounding slightly annoyed, walking towards the exit

Sherlock rapidly followed the man

-“Where are you going?”-he asked, feeling a sudden feeling of panic

-"I had enough of the third degree"- he said without turning around.

-"Wait!"- Sherlock yelled. -"The numbers"

Jim stopped walking -"What about them?"- He asked, still not turning around.

Sherlock sighed

-"The French drug lord. He carried 60 euros in his wallet. His killer, he got a tattoo with the number “57” and confessed the murder three days later. I admit I thought it meant something entirely different at first”- He waited for Jim to turn his back and say something, but he didn’t. Sherlock continued –“But then, eighteen days later Ronald Adair was murdered outside the L’araignée club, holding an envelope with a paper sheet with nothing but the number “39”, and since I don’t believe in coincides, I now wonder what kind of _association_ you and Eurus have”

Finally Jim Moriarty turned to face him –“And why is that?”

-“Because…”- He started, stepping forward –“She told me to wait for her to finish page _twenty five_ today when I visited her, and later, I received _twenty five_ dental pieces from _Mr. Worth_ ”

Moriarty tilted his head -“Did you like that? I was hoping you’d appreciate such romantic gesture”

 The taller man frowned at the comment and Jim grinned wider this time.

-“It was a countdown”- Sherlock said proudly. He was finally putting some pieces together.

-"Oh, so you _do_ pay attention sometimes. I had to send you the musical score for the Opus 29 by Sergei Rachmaninoff this time, so you wouldn’t perceive it as some kind special code”- Jim mocked him, again.

Sherlock forced himself to fake a laugh. He was aware that he was the one invading the criminal’s personal space now.

-“And you say I’m the one unable to let go”

They both stared at each other in silence for a moment, until Sherlock broke the silence

-“So. What happens once the countdown reaches zero?”

Jim grinned devilishly -“What do you think will happen?”

The detective was clueless for the tenth time tonight, and the only person to achieve that was back from the grave. Even this meant hell for everyone else; he knew that for him this was going to be an extended and twisted version of Christmas.

-“Whatever it is, I'm sure Scotland Yard should get involved"- He said half serious, half joking

-"I don’t know, Sherlock. Is that what you want?”- Jim leaned forward. There was no gap between them now. He brushed the shell of his ear with his lips, and whispered –“Is that what you really want?”

Sherlock froze as he felt his heart skip a beat. He knew he should run. He thought about calling Mycroft or George. He should at least push this crazy man away, but he didn’t. Doing such things would only deprive him of the brilliance of his enemy.

Jim stepped back, ending their strange dance-like pattern for tonight, and the detective let a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Composing himself, the detective finally answered -"No. It's not, and if you don't threat or hurt my friends, No one will know a thing"

-"Good, because it’s not them I’m interested in"- He winked mischievously, making Sherlock shudder involuntarily

-“Well, I better get off now”- He said mimicking the tone he used when they first met at the pool –“But don’t fret. We’ll see each other sooner than you expect”

-“Twenty five days isn’t exactly soon”- Sherlock retorted

-"Oh. You finally got it!”- He nodded and then added 

–“Patience. You still have work to do”- He turned his back on him

–“ _Do not_ disappoint me this time”

And with that, Jim Moriarty disappeared.

 Sherlock smiled -“I’ll be waiting”


End file.
